Magic Moments
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: My response to a cousin who asked for something romantic and slash on her birthday.  Warning - slash very implied, so if you aren't over 18, don't read


Napoleon glanced over at his quilt-covered partner. Illya stretched out on the sofa, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, deeply engrossed in a book about the foundations of molecular biology. It was a little long-haired to Napoleon's way of thinking, but he had _Profiles in Courage_ to read, so he was happy.

The rain pattered against the balcony window and the wind occasionally rattled the glass in its frame. The sound of the city was far below them. Up in their apartment, it was just the rain, the wind and a soft mournful song by Billie Holliday.

Napoleon carried his coffee to the sofa and cleared his throat. Illya glanced up and lifted his socks long enough for Napoleon to settle down onto the couch and then dropped them again. Napoleon made a face and considered tickling one of the socks, but it contained a foot. That foot was attached to his partner and Illya had a wicked kick and a ticklish insole.

Instead he set his coffee down on the end table and scrunched around until he was comfortably arranged beneath his partner's legs and the quilt. Billie Holliday finished and her album was replaced by another. A moment later, Frank Sinatra started crooning and Illya made a face.

"I smell a rat in the henhouse," he muttered, looking over at Napoleon.

"Hey, fifty-fifty remember? Our place, our albums, and I happen to like Frank… and Dean…"

"He's a womanizer."

"So was I… once upon a time." Napoleon ran a hand up Illya's bare thigh beneath the quilt. Illya caught the hand and sat up, bringing the fingers to his lips and kissing them.

"Once upon a time," he repeated and then let Napoleon's hand go and resumed his position.

"Illya?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever wonder how or why things turned out as they have?"

"Not as a rule." Illya pulled off his glasses and let the book fall to his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really, I just wonder sometimes. I mean, what if Waverly had assigned you to another agent? What if I'd left UNCLE to be with Clara?"

"One is assuming you'd not be so stupid as to try and overthrow a government."

"I'm serious, Illya. When you think about all the things that had to happen to get us to the right place at the right time, it's a little daunting."

"Which is why I rarely think about it." Illya shifted onto his side and patted the couch. Napoleon paused for a moment and then lay down beside him. Illya's arm encircled his waist and Napoleon stretched his arm over it. Napoleon studied their arms, both strong, corded with strength, enough to do whatever they needed, whether it was crawling up the side of a mountain or comforting an innocent. "What's really wrong, Napoleon?"

"Gift horse and all that. I'm just so content with everything as it is, I keep thinking the other shoe has to drop eventually."

"And when it does, I will be there to catch it." Illya's breath was soft against his neck, almost as soft as the lips that followed.

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all."

Napoleon snapped out of the daydream as a log popped loudly in the fireplace. He sat up, wincing at the hitch in his back. There had been a time when he could sit motionless for hours, then spring up and into action without a moment's thought. Now if he stayed in one position for too long, everything sort of locked up.

Illya came walking in and Napoleon started to chuckle.

"What?"

"I was thinking about a day many years ago. You were wearing something very similar."

Illya glanced down at his nakedness and grinned. "One is assuming it was less wrinkled or sagging in fewer spots." Even in their late sixties, they were still in better condition than most men their age and Napoleon knew that. Years of conditioning had kept them exercising long after most men stopped.

"I happen to appreciate your wrinkles."

"That's good as I've long since lost the original receipt in order to return them." He passed over a mug of coffee and slipped back under the quilt. "So tell me about this day."

Napoleon set down the coffee and let the fingers of one hand card through the silver and gold strands of Illya's hair. "Well, we were in New York and it was raining. You were reading a book on molecular biology and I was reading _Profiles in Courage_. We were arguing about Billie Holliday and Frank Sinatra."

"And yet you can't remember to pick up eggs when you go to the store."

"Short term is shot; long term is much better. Stop interrupting. I was worried about the past, all the things that had had to happen for us to come together."

"Yet decades later, here we are, still together."

"It hasn't been easy."

"The good things in life seldom are. You only truly appreciate what you have to fight for… like the blankets or my pillow."

Napoleon laughed and pulled Illya closer. "And now every day brings me a new gift – the opportunity to spend it with you."

"You really are a hopeless romantic, aren't you?" Illya's breath was soft against his skin and Napoleon nodded, turning his head slightly to meet Illya's lips.

"Do you mind?" he whispered into his partner's mouth.

"Not at all."


End file.
